


holyverse drabbles

by softirwin



Series: holyverse [1]
Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Angel/Demon Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:13:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27165721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softirwin/pseuds/softirwin
Summary: drabbles set in thedancing with the demons (holy spirit, holy spirit)'verse
Relationships: Luke Hemmings/Ashton Irwin, Michael Clifford/Calum Hood
Series: holyverse [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1982932
Comments: 10
Kudos: 28





	1. calum takes luke up on his offer to turn him into an incubus

**Author's Note:**

> credit to the anon who came up with holyverse and bexless for unholyverse that it was undoubtedly inspired by everyone read all of bexless's fics immediately please actually on the topic of frerard go and read the anatomy of a fall i'll never stop promoting that fic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re the fucking Devil, and you waste your powers turning freshwater into salt water?” he says, a little sceptically. Luke’s eyes flit from the lake to Calum, and Calum’s head is jerked back with the force of his gaze, head smacking against the tree painfully. Luke grins when Calum winces. 
> 
> “You got a better use for them?” he asks. Calum shrugs. 
> 
> “Offer to turn me into an incubus still stand?” he says, and Luke’s grin widens. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt: calum takes luke up on his offer to turn him into an incubus

“Aamon’s asking for you,” Calum says, throwing himself down under a tree near the lake Luke’s currently frowning at. 

“He can keep asking,” Luke says, not taking his eyes off the lake. Calum cocks his head. 

“What’re you doing?” he asks curiously. 

“Turning it to salt water,” Luke says. Calum rolls his eyes. 

“You’re the fucking Devil, and you waste your powers turning freshwater into salt water?” he says, a little sceptically. Luke’s eyes flit from the lake to Calum, and Calum’s head is jerked back with the force of his gaze, head smacking against the tree painfully. Luke grins when Calum winces. 

“You got a better use for them?” he asks. Calum shrugs. 

“Offer to turn me into an incubus still stand?” he says, and Luke’s grin widens. 

“You’re getting as bad as me,” he says, wicked and gleeful. Calum snorts. 

“You’ve got a whole religion based on hating you,” he points out. Luke shrugs flippantly, but casts his eyes back to the lake. “So?” Calum prompts, after a few seconds pass without Luke saying anything. Luke purses his lips, considering.

“Sure,” he says after a moment. “But I’m going to need something in return.” 

“I’ll give you my soul,” Calum offers dramatically, and Luke snorts. If Calum had a soul, Luke would’ve taken it millennia ago.

“I’ll settle for you setting up a meeting with Ashton,” he says, a little too casually. Calum grins. 

“You’ve got it fucking bad, mate,” he tells Luke, and then immediately winces as his head smacks back against the tree for his trouble, even though Luke’s not looking at him. “Fucking ow, dude. That shit hurts.” 

“Thought you’d be into that,” Luke says. Calum scowls. 

“Not from _you_ ,” he says, and then hisses as his throat burns hotly. “Fucking hell, are you serious? Can’t even say I don’t want to fuck you? You gonna stop that whole ‘can’t criticise the King of Hell’ bullshit anytime soon?” He winces again, and Luke grins, snaps his fingers, makes it burn hotter. Calum chokes, but refuses to cry out.

“Nah,” Luke says, as Calum rubs at his throat. “We have a deal?” 

“Not sure I want to say those words to you, mate, no offence. Been told deals with the Devil are a bad idea,” Calum says, a little hoarsely. Luke grins. 

“Where’d you hear that?” he says. 

“Oh, little book I read,” Calum says casually. 

“Think I know the one,” Luke muses. “Pretty good start, but it gets a bit dull towards the end.” 

“Yeah,” Calum agrees. “I mean, how many Epistles do you need, right?” Luke snorts, and skims a stone over the still, now salty lake. Calum watches the water rippling out from the stone, hears the tiny splashes in the stillness of the air, and follows Luke’s hand as he lifts it lazily, causing a huge wall of water to tower out of the water. 

“You’re such a fucking show off,” Calum tells him, and Luke looks over his shoulder at him, eyes black, grinning wickedly, and flicks his wrist in Calum’s direction. Calum’s eyes widen, and he barely manages to get out an _oh, fuck_ before the water’s hitting him, icy cold and yeah, really, _really_ fucking salty. He splutters as he shakes his hair out, wiping at his eyes and spitting salt water onto the grass beside him. 

“Fuck you,” he says weakly. “I’ll set up the fucking meeting.” Luke grins. 

“All you had to say, pretty boy,” he says, and snaps his fingers again. Calum’s suddenly warm and dry, and frowns down at himself as he smooths out his leather jacket. 

“Well, you gonna turn me into an incubus then, or what?” he demands. 

“Just did,” Luke says. Calum’s frown deepens. 

“I don’t feel any different.”

“Well, you’re already the horniest fucking demon around,” Luke says, a note of amusement and a note of exasperation in his tone. “But that’s not how incubi work. You’ll appear in a dream next time Michael sleeps.” Calum’s frown smooths itself out into a smile. 

“Sweet,” he says happily, leaning back against the tree. Luke snorts, grinning at the water, looking far too amused and pleased with himself, but whatever. He’s the fucking Devil; Calum’s not going to question it. 

——-

It’s been _twenty minutes_ since they fucked, and Calum’s starting to droop. Michael, impossibly, is still rambling about some fucking bullshit, something about Raphael, or maybe it was Gabriel, and looking more awake than ever. 

“…was talking to Him about it a few weeks ago, and He agreed, but Gabriel’s the Son’s favourite angel, all that Mary bullshit, y’know, so it’s not like He’s actually going to _do_ anything-” Michael’s saying, when Calum cuts him off. 

“All very fascinating,” he interrupts, gazing up at Michael, “but when are you going to sleep?” Michael breaks off and stares down at him in surprise. 

“You’re still awake?” he asks, and Calum struggles to hold back a yawn. “You usually fall asleep like, two minutes after finishing.” Calum scowls, and nuzzles further into Michael’s chest, which is far too warm and soft and comforting and the last thing he needs when he’s teetering on the brink of falling asleep like this. He needs Michael to fall asleep first, and then he can follow. 

“What, you just usually talk to yourself?” Calum asks in disbelief, even though he can absolutely believe that. Michael shrugs. 

“Never alone,” he says, wings fluttering a little in what Calum thinks might be the comfort of knowing there’s always someone listening to him, but isn’t quite sure. “Mostly venting to the Host under the pretence that I’m venting to you.” Calum rolls his eyes. 

“You seriously are the shittiest angel I’ve ever met,” he tells Michael, who grins, and pulls Calum closer. Calum curls up on Michael’s chest, closing his eyes and nosing into him, and sighs contentedly. 

“I’m your favourite,” he says, and Calum bites at the soft, pale skin of his chest in retaliation, because he’s too far gone to lie to Michael and they both know it. 

“Go to fucking sleep,” he says instead, because he’s seriously only going to manage another two minutes before he falls asleep himself, and Luke had specifically said if Calum fell asleep first it wouldn’t work. 

“What?” Michael says, sounding amused. “Cal, I’m an angel.” 

“Yeah, mate, I got that,” Calum mutters, touching Michael’s left wing with his right. Both of them shiver at the contact, electric but icy, and Calum does it again just for the hell of it. 

“You know angels don’t sleep, right?” Michael says, note of amusement still in his tone. Calum’s eyes fly open. 

“Are you fucking serious?” he demands. 

“What?” 

“I’m going to fucking kill Luke.” 

——-

“You fucking bastard,” Calum shouts when he spots him, pointing a finger at Luke, and Luke just tips his head back, roars with laughter. “Angels don’t fucking sleep!” The lady sharing the bus stop with Luke shoots Calum a strange look and shifts down a seat. 

“How the hell didn’t you know that?” Luke says, grinning. “You’re fucking an angel.” Calum throws his hands up in the air. 

“Yeah, mate, _demons_ sleep though, you know, especially after sex,” he says, and Luke snorts. “And I’m not a fucking incubus, am I?” The lady looks alarmed, and shifts another seat down. 

“Aren’t you?” Luke says, eyes glinting. 

“Well, I’ve not turned up in anyone’s dreams so far, have I?” Calum says, folding his arms. Luke grins again. 

“I haven’t slept yet,” he says, and Calum’s eyes widen. 

“Oh, no, no, no,” he says, pointing at Luke. “I am _not_ fucking you in your dreams. No. Absolutely not. Take it off. I don’t want to be an incubus anymore.” Luke bursts out laughing again, eyes glittering with amusement. 

“I’ll think about it,” he says, “if I get something in return.” Calum scowls at him. 

“You know,” he says, pointing at Luke accusingly, “the Bible’s right about you.” The woman looks frightened now, picks up her bags and steps outside the bus shelter. Luke doesn’t even notice, too busy giggling at Calum. Calum throws him one last scowl, flips him off, and then heads out of the bus shelter, gearing himself to pull his trump card out, thinking if Luke doesn’t kill him for it he’ll probably steal a car and wreak some havoc somewhere where Michael will find him. 

“I’m feeling kind of sleepy, actually,” Luke calls after him. Calum flips him off again, not looking back, steadying himself. 

“Ashton won’t like it if I fuck you,” he says, a little too casual, and suddenly something cold washes over him, and he grins to himself. Note to self: the Ashton card always works. 

“Fuck off before I change my mind,” Luke says, and Calum spins back around to blow him a kiss. 

“See you in Hell,” he shouts, and Luke rolls his eyes, but blows a kiss back. 


	2. "did anyone else just see that?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael’s favourite thing about Calum, he thinks, is how easily impressed he is. 
> 
> The way he smiles up at Michael when they’re lying together in bed, Calum warm and heavy on Michael’s chest, tracing runes with his fingers, is a close second. The way he sounds when he’s on the brink of falling asleep and mumbling that he loves Michael, voice soft and low and a little faded around the edges, is up there too. But Michael’s a little egotistical, so first place is taken by the look of awe on Calum’s face whenever Michael pulls out another power that Calum didn’t know he had. 
> 
> And, frankly, it’s kind of hilarious how little Calum seems to know about Michael’s powers. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt: "did anyone else just see that?"

Michael’s favourite thing about Calum, he thinks, is how easily impressed he is. 

The way he smiles up at Michael when they’re lying together in bed, Calum warm and heavy on Michael’s chest, tracing runes with his fingers, is a close second. The way he sounds when he’s on the brink of falling asleep and mumbling that he loves Michael, voice soft and low and a little faded around the edges, is up there too. But Michael’s a little egotistical, so first place is taken by the look of awe on Calum’s face whenever Michael pulls out another power that Calum didn’t know he had. 

And, frankly, it’s kind of hilarious how little Calum seems to know about Michael’s powers. 

(“Why the fuck would I know anything about you?” he grumbles, when Michael points it out one day. “Not a theologian, am I?” 

“No, but you _were_ in Heaven,” Michael says. 

“For, like, a _century_ ,” Calum says, rolling his eyes. 

“You should learn about your boyfriend’s heritage,” Michael tells him, which Calum says he would do if Michael’s heritage weren’t so fucking boring, so Michael buys him a Bible for his birthday and gets a clip to the back of the head from a black wing for his trouble.) 

Calum never seems particularly impressed by Luke, although Luke’s power almost rivals Michael’s. He’s never impressed by Ashton, either, although Michael can’t exactly blame him for that - Ashton’s not particularly impressive. It’s only ever when Michael does something like inadvertently read a passing person’s mind and comment on it, or create a thunderstorm when he’s in a bad mood for the fucking hell of it, or skip forwards in time, that Calum seems to turn around, gape at whatever it is, and turn back to Michael with a _what the fuck, you can do that?_

The best part of it is that Michael tends to forget his powers, a lot of the time. He’ll tell Calum _sorry, hang on, just got to locate a human for Ashton,_ and Calum will stare at him, open-mouthed, and say _you can fucking locate people?_ Or, on one memorable occasion, when Michael hadn’t been thinking straight and had accidentally caused Calum to explode into his molecular components, _did you just fucking blow me up?_

“I don’t get it,” Luke says, when Michael mentions it over dinner, reaching for Ashton’s burger. Ashton slaps his hand away, but then there’s a second burger on his plate, and he hands it to Luke. “No, I don’t want that one. I want yours.” 

“What don’t you get?” Michael says. 

“What d’you mean, you want mine?” Ashton demands. “I’ve just made one for you.”

“I don’t get why he thinks _your_ powers are special,” Luke says. “I don’t _want_ that one. I want _yours._ ” He reaches over again, but Ashton’s too quick for him, grabbing the burger and holding it out of reach. 

“I could potentially say they’re better than yours,” Calum says, which is his new loophole to get around the fact he can’t criticise Luke without his throat erupting in burning pain. 

“You could,” Michael agrees. “I mean, I did beat you in a war, Luke. That’s pretty conclusive.” 

“Nah,” Luke says, eyeing Ashton’s burger as he takes a bite out of it. “We should have a rematch. Best of three.” 

“Fuck off,” Michael says, mainly because he’s not sure where he left his sword. 

“You could send Raphael to the front line,” Calum suggests casually, dipping his chip in far too much ketchup. 

“On second thoughts-” Michael begins, and Ashton sends him a reproachful look. Michael rolls his eyes. “C’mon, Ash, you don’t like him either.” 

“I trust His opinion,” Ashton says diplomatically, and then takes another bite out of his burger to avoid having to say anything else. 

“My point is,” Luke says, eyes still on Ashton’s burger, and Michael sees a few extra pieces of lettuce appearing underneath the bun, just how Ashton likes it. “I don’t get why Michael’s impressive to you, but I’m not.” 

“No offence, mate, but the most exciting thing I’ve seen you do with your powers is remove the foundation of a building,” Calum says. “Michael can fucking read _minds._ ” Luke scowls, and looks down at his plate. 

“Reading minds isn’t all that,” he says, a touch petulantly. “I did it for a few millennia.” 

“ _Yeah,_ back when the most exciting mind to read was a fucking _fish,_ ” Calum says, which is a good point. 

“That’s a good point,” Michael says, through his mouthful of burger, and Ashton nods. 

“It’s not like humans have many more complex thoughts than fish,” Luke says, rolling his eyes, but Michael can tell from the way he’s folded his arms that he’s a little put out. “There’s plenty of other things I can do that are more exciting than hearing about how Margaret next door’s dog’s not been taken on a walk yet today.”

“Go on, then,” Calum says, leaning forwards. “What’s the most exciting thing you can do?” Luke shrugs. 

“Molecular combustion?” he offers.

“I blew Calum up, once,” Michael says, almost absent-mindedly. 

“Electromagnetic interference?” 

“C’mon, even I can do that,” Ashton says, and then groans when his burger disappears out of his hands. 

“Alright, fuck, power granting,” Luke says, throwing his hands in the air. 

“What the fuck?” Calum demands. “You can grant powers? Why the fuck haven’t you granted me any?” 

“Made you an incubus once, didn’t I?” Luke says. 

“Yeah, in order to fuck me,” Calum says. Michael frowns.

“You were going to fuck him?” he says, at the same time as Ashton makes a noise of unhappiness. 

“I wasn’t,” Luke says to Ashton, and the burger appears on Ashton’s plate again. “Just wanted to fuck with him.” 

“It’s okay,” Ashton says, a little tightly, and a drop of ketchup slides out of the burger he’s clenching in his hands. “You don’t owe me anything.” 

“Fuck’s sake, Ash,” Luke says, and even though he sounds exasperated there’s a pleading edge to his voice that Michael would never - _could_ never - get him to use. “I fucking fell for you.” 

“I _know_ , I just-” Michael zones out at that point, recognising the pained _I’m about to tell you my feelings_ voice from Ashton. 

“Hey,” Calum says, clearly also absolutely uninterested in whatever Ashton’s saying that’s making Luke’s brow crease like that. “What’s your coolest power?” Michael shrugs. 

“Dunno,” he says. “Resurrection?” Calum wrinkles his nose. 

“Luke can do that,” he says. “He took me to see Elvis, once. In the late ‘80s.” Michael can’t help but snort at the mental image of Calum and Luke sat in the dark with Elvis’s decaying corpse crooning _Blue Suede Shoes_ at them.

“He can’t do it like I can, though,” Michael says. “I can restore their bodies through the soul. I mean, I have automatic access to the soul. Luke has to be granted permission to get to their souls, so he can just do that weird zombie thing with their bodies.” 

“That’s why he does deals?” Calum says, sounding a little shocked. 

“Well, yeah,” Michael says. “He’s got to sweeten the pot somehow, doesn’t he?”

“Fucking hell,” Calum says, sitting back and staring at Michael. “Always wondered why he didn’t just take them.” Michael grins. 

“Part of God’s powers,” he says. 

“So what else can you do that Luke can’t?” Calum says, leaning forwards again. Michael scrunches his face up, considering. 

“Uh,” he says, and creates another version of himself, sandwiched between himself and Ashton. “That one’s pretty cool.” Calum gapes at him, eyes flitting from Other Michael to Michael and back again. Other Michael winks at him, and Michael rolls his eyes. He kind of is a little shit, hence why he doesn’t self-duplicate often.

“Fucking hell,” he says, and Michael grins, and Other Michael disappears. “Fuck. Luke, did you fucking see that? Did anyone see that?” 

“-and I’m- what?” Luke breaks off, sounding annoyed. “See what?”

“ _That_ ,” Calum says, gesturing wildly at the now-empty space between Michael and Ashton. “There were two of him.” 

“Fucking hell,” Luke mutters. “Can’t think of anything worse.” 

“Fuck you,” Michael says. 

“Oh, fuck,” Calum says, gaze flitting back to Michael, eyes slightly glazed. “You’re doing that next time we fuck.” Ashton chokes on his milkshake, and Calum grins, eyes glinting. “In fact,” he continues, standing up and holding out a hand for Michael to take. “No time like the present, right?” Ashton makes a noise that might be outrage, might be horror, might just be plain distress, and Michael grins, stands up, and takes Calum’s hand. Who is he to say no to something that’ll simultaneously upset Ashton and get Michael laid? 

“I’ll be back in time for dinner, Ash,” he calls, as they head towards the door. Luke and Ashton stare at them, and Michael, just because there’s almost nothing more enjoyable than fucking with Ashton, self-duplicates again, making Other Michael sling an arm around Calum’s waist and pinch his arse on the way. He hears the noise of indignation from the table behind them, and laughs. 

“You know,” Luke calls, “I’m pretty sure pre-marital sex is a sin.” 

“Tell that to your own angel,” Calum shouts back, and Michael grins. He picked the right demon. 


	3. luke praying to michael just to annoy him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael’s in his office when it happens for the first time. 
> 
> _Michael?_
> 
> It startles him, not only because he’s completely zoned out and it jolts him back to the realm, but also because it…sounds like Luke? 
> 
> _Hello?_ he tries. There’s a pause. 
> 
> _Wow,_ he hears Luke pray, and frowns. That’s definitely Luke. _Didn’t think this would work._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt: do you think luke ever prays to michael just to annoy him? luke waxes poetic about his poor broken heart and michael is finally like ashton pls stop him

Michael’s in his office when it happens for the first time. 

_Michael?_

It startles him, not only because he’s completely zoned out and it jolts him back to the realm, but also because it…sounds like Luke? 

_Hello?_ he tries. There’s a pause. 

_Wow,_ he hears Luke pray, and frowns. That’s _definitely_ Luke. _Didn’t think this would work._

 _What the fuck?_ Michael prays back, frowning. _Since when can the fucking Devil pray?_

_Dunno,_ Luke prays, but Michael can detect the glee in it. That’s the thing about prayers from non-angels; Michael doesn’t just see what Luke wants to show him. It’s a raw process, bearing every part of himself for Michael to see. 

_What the fuck do you want?_ Michael prays, because he’s bound to listening to prayers, as Luke is _fully_ aware. 

_Heard you’re good at healing broken hearts,_ Luke prays, and it’s smug, and Michael inhales deeply, exhales heavily, and kneads his temples. 

_Fuck you,_ he returns. 

_I’m serious_ , Luke protests, but Michael can hear the laughter seeping into the edges of his prayers. _I don’t know how to get over Ashton._

 _I’m not the angel to talk to about this,_ Michael prays determinedly. _Try Chamuel._ Duty fulfilled, he closes the channel, and flips to the next page of his report. 

——-

 _You know what I hate about December?_ Michael gets in the middle of the night, and groans. 

_Christmas?_

_Yeah, shit. An annual reminder that Jesus exists._

_Least you’re not up here, mate,_ Michael returns, slotting Churchill’s file back in the cabinet. _You’ve only got to remember him once a year._

 _Cal told me about the onion thing,_ Luke prays, and Michael grins. 

_Worth the demotion,_ he prays back. 

_It’d get you a promotion down in Hell,_ Luke prays, like that’s some kind of incentive. 

_You done? Can I close this now?_ Michael prays, pulling out William the Conqueror’s file. 

_No,_ Luke returns, with a hint of smugness. _I never told you what I hate about December._

 _Don’t fucking care, mate,_ Michael prays, flipping to the page about William’s coronation. 

_It’s cold and empty,_ Luke prays melodramatically, _like my heart without Ashton._ Michael sighs heavily. 

“Ashton,” he shouts. 

“What?” he hears an annoyed voice call back. 

“Luke’s praying to me about you. Again.”

“So?”

“ _So,_ tell him to fucking _stop.”_ There’s a pause. 

“Would’ve done if you hadn’t cursed,” Ashton retorts smartly, and Michael’s going to kill the fucking both of them. 

——-

 _I’m broken,_ a voice complains, and Michael sighs. 

_Fuck off, Luke._

_How do I recover from the pain Ashton has caused me?_ Luke laments, and Michael groans, presses the heels of his palms to his eyes. 

_Get laid._

_I would, but the love of my life is in a different realm,_ Luke prays melodramatically, and Michael can hear the amusement seeping through into the prayer. _How many prayers will it take to get him back? Must I recant every sin before I will be accepted back into his bosom?_ Michael pulls a face. 

_Don’t ever talk about Ashton’s bosom again,_ he warns, and he hears Luke’s laughter echoing through the channel. 

_Oh, how I miss those hazel eyes, blinking at me in the morning after a long, long night of passionate lovemaki-_

_FUCK YOU_ , Michael prays, as hard as he can and seals the channel, figuring dealing with those repercussions will be less painful than dealing with the mental image of Luke and Ashton fucking. 

——-

“So,” He says, swivelling around to face Michael. “You _are_ aware that being an angel - an archangel, no less - requires listening to prayers?” 

“From the fucking Devil?” Michael says sceptically, and He arches an eyebrow. 

“Nobody is beyond redemption,” He says, and Michael rolls his eyes. 

“Are you serious?” he complains. “Luke’s so far beyond redemption that he’s created a fourth Realm. Heaven, Earth, Hell, and Luke.” God snorts. 

“Yeah, well,” he says, with a shrug. “Those are the rules.” Michael stares at him in disbelief.

“You can _change_ the rules,” he says. “You’re _God.”_ God grins, eyes twinkling. 

“So I can,” he says, and steeples his fingers against his chin, still grinning. “But changing them in this case would deprive me of the entertainment of you having to put up with Lucifer, so I’m not inclined to do it.” Michael gapes at him. 

“You’re just going to let him fuck with me?” he says incredulously, and God laughs, leans back in his seat, and shrugs again. 

“Got to get my kicks somewhere, haven’t I?” 

——-

 _Michael,_ he hears, and immediately groans. 

_The Archangel known as Michael is closed for business on the following topics: love, sex, relationships, romance, and Ashton,_ he tries. 

_You know what isn’t closed for business?_ Luke replies. _My heart for Ashton._ Michael rolls his eyes. 

“Ashton,” he calls. 

“What?” Ashton shouts back. 

“He’s doing it again.” 

“Who?”

“Luke.” Ashton pauses. 

“Praying at you?” Michael nods, forgetting Ashton can’t see him through the wall.

“Yeah,” he calls. “Can you tell him to stop?” 

“No,” Ashton says, and Michael hears the unmistakable sound of ruffling feathers. 

“You’re a bastard,” Michael says evenly. 

_I think it’s integral to my prayer that you know the full extent of the pain I’m in,_ Luke interrupts, mock-serious. _I think it’s most important to start with the physical side of mine and Ashton’s relationship-_

Michael groans again, slams his head against his desk, and covers his ears with his wings. 


	4. "why do i love you?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Ashton,_ Michael prays, an edge of desperation to the word, and Ashton jerks up from the record of the soul he’s currently processing, focusing in on the prayer. _Come down. I need you._
> 
> _What for?_
> 
> _Luke._
> 
> Ashton can’t help the butterflies in his stomach at that, and he swallows, pushing himself back from his desk. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt: "why do i love you?"

_Ashton,_ Michael prays, an edge of desperation to the word, and Ashton jerks up from the record of the soul he’s currently processing, focusing in on the prayer. _Come down. I need you._

 _What for?_

_Luke._

Ashton can’t help the butterflies in his stomach at that, and he swallows, pushing himself back from his desk. 

He shouldn’t. He shouldn’t go. Michael’s _more_ than capable of handling Lucifer - he’s proven that once before - and Ashton’s busy. He’s got at least three thousand more souls to process today. He doesn’t have the time to go down, doesn’t have the time to chase whatever stupid nonsense Lucifer’s up to now. He shouldn’t. 

Instead, he focuses in on Michael, lets his prayer swell in his heart, closes his eyes, and heads down. 

He turns up in the dark outside a restaurant, lit up by one feeble streetlight. He can _feel_ that Lucifer’s in there, feel it in the burning, crawling sensation under his folded-in wings, so he takes a deep breath and pushes the door open. 

It’s nearly empty, save a table with Calum, dressed in all black, leather jacket catching the light as he gesticulates wildly, frowning. Michael’s opposite him, white shirt setting off his pale skin and blond hair, frowning right back at Calum, lips twisted in a way that Ashton knows firsthand means _I know you’re right but I refuse to lose this argument._ Lucifer’s sat next to Calum, looking incredibly bored with whatever’s happening, but, almost as though it were an instinct, his eyes are drawn to Ashton, north meeting south. 

Ashton swallows at the dark look in Lucifer’s eyes, and heads over to the table. 

“What?” he says, hoping his voice doesn’t sound as hoarse to everyone else as it does to him. 

“Oh, thank fuck,” Michael says, a look of relief spreading across his face. The curse rings loud and unholy in Ashton’s ears, and makes him wince slightly. Michael barely even notices. “Cal, let’s fucking go.” 

“Wait,” Ashton says, as both Calum and Michael scrape their chairs back, and Michael turns to look at him, faint annoyance etched in his features. 

“What?” he says. 

“ _What_?” Ashton echoes, slightly incredulous. “You call me down here, and then you leave?” Michael shrugs. Ashton _cannot_ believe him. “You said-” he cuts himself off, with a glance at Lucifer, who’s watching the exchange idly. Lucifer doesn’t miss the glance, and a lazy smile spreads across his face when he realises what the look means. 

“I just said I needed you,” Michael points out. 

“For Lucifer.” 

“Yeah, to keep him company,” Michael says, “while me and Cal go off and fuck.” Calum nods seriously at that. Ashton’s going to speak to Him about blanket banning consorting with demons. Michael’s getting worse by the day, and he was never good to begin with. 

“I think he can look after himself,” Ashton bites out, casting Lucifer another glance. Lucifer just looks back at him, amused smile playing on his lips. 

“No,” Michael says, placing a hand on Ashton’s shoulder, and Ashton feels it, feels the full weight of God’s love and holiness thrumming through his veins, heavy in Michael’s touch, stronger than any other angel. He kind of gets why Raphael hates Michael whenever he feels that. “I think you should be there with him.” He says it with the kind of gravity only an archangel can muster, and Ashton has no choice but to nod, because it’s an order. Michael grins at him, quick and easy, all seriousness gone, and pats him on the shoulder, right above his wing. Ashton winces, and falls into the seat Michael had been occupying. 

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Lucifer calls after Calum and Michael as they head for the door. 

“There’s nothing you wouldn’t do,” Calum shoots back, and Lucifer grins wickedly. 

“Exactly,” he says, and both Michael and Calum roll their eyes fondly - and, okay, when did Michael become fond of Lucifer? Something rolls uncomfortably in Ashton’s stomach at that, but he pushes it aside, focusing on the task at hand. Keep Lucifer entertained. Keep him company. Ashton can do that. 

“So,” Lucifer says, blue eyes flicking to Ashton, lit up and amused. “Just me and you now.” Ashton nods tightly. 

“Looks like it,” he says. That just seems to amuse Lucifer even more, small smile stretching to a full grin. He leans back, tilting his head like he’s scrutinising Ashton, and suddenly there’s a cheeseburger in front of Ashton. 

Okay. Ashton’s _not_ a fan of human food, he really isn’t, but Michael had gone on and _on_ about cheeseburgers for at least fifty years, begging Ashton to come down and try one, and Ashton had eventually relented and said he’d try one if Michael brought one back up, which he’d duly done. It’s been at least forty years since that happened, and Ashton had only managed about ten before he’d caved and started taking the odd secret trip down to Earth for a cheeseburger. Nobody, though, _nobody,_ not even Michael, knows about that. 

“I don’t eat human food,” Ashton says primly, because he doesn’t. Ashton may not be able to lie, but all that’s done is make him very good at bending the truth. 

“You eat cheeseburgers,” Lucifer says, like this is a well-known fact, and not something Ashton’s sworn Michael to secrecy on. 

“I-” Ashton’s cut off with a wince, holy power seizing his tongue, caught in an almost-lie. Lucifer grins, recognising the telltale signs of an angel trying to lie all too well. Ashton clears his throat in a dignified manner, hoping Lucifer can’t see the flush on his cheeks, and tries a different tack. “How do you know that?” Lucifer shrugs. 

“Kept tabs on you,” he says, and then proceeds to reel off Ashton’s cheeseburger order. “Double cheeseburger, extra pickles, no mayo, two tomatoes.” Ashton stares at him. 

“You _stalked_ me?” he says, and it comes out a little strangled. He’s not sure whether that’s the holiness or the fact that his stomach has done, like, a full Olympics gymnastics set at the idea that Lucifer’s been keeping up with him, been watching him from afar. 

“Well, now, stalking is a strong word,” Lucifer says, grinning, because he doesn’t care, he’s the Devil. That thought sends a strong wave of revulsion coursing through Ashton, top to toe, followed immediately with a wave of guilt. He really hopes Raphael’s not tuned in to him right now. The last thing Ashton needs is someone spreading the word that Ashton’s hanging out with Satan. 

“You-” Ashton cuts himself off, because he’s not really sure what he wants to say. Lucifer watches him, half-amused, half-interested. Ashton feels the full weight of _something_ under his gaze, but he’s not sure what it is - holy, sacrilegious, Heaven, Hell - and drops his gaze to the cheeseburger. 

“You should eat it,” Lucifer says casually. Ashton eyes it warily. 

“Do I look like an idiot?” he says. Lucifer rolls his eyes. 

“What, you think I’ve carved a banishing sigil into the lettuce?” he says, like it’s the most ludicrous idea in the world, and then stops. “Hmm. That might be one to try on Michael, actually.” Ashton, because he’s a good friend and an even better angel, dutifully sends a prayer in Michael’s direction informing him as such. Michael doesn’t respond, and Ashton withdraws before he gets too close to the dark spikes of whatever it is that Michael’s currently giving off. 

“I don’t want your food,” Ashton says, because it’s true, he doesn’t want _Lucifer’s_ food, and pushes the cheeseburger away from him childishly. Lucifer rolls his eyes, but pulls the cheeseburger towards himself, and takes a huge bite out of it, holding Ashton’s gaze as he does. Ashton prays for the strength not to watch the line of his throat as he swallows, but He doesn’t seem to be listening. 

“Have you always been this fucking boring?” Lucifer comments idly, licking his finger obscenely, and oh, _oh_ , the repentance for the thoughts that just went through Ashton’s head hits him like a train. He visibly flinches, and Lucifer grins. “Man, you know shit’s a lot more fun when you don’t feel shitty about every thought you have.” 

“I don’t feel bad,” Ashton grits out, because he doesn’t. Repentance is a necessary consequence of sin, and he always feels good that he’s repented. Lucifer shrugs, and takes another bite of the burger. Ashton swallows, not entirely because he kind of wishes the burger were going down his throat instead of Lucifer’s. Like he knows what Ashton’s thinking, Lucifer quirks a brow at him. 

“You can still have some,” he offers. 

“I-” Ashton winces again, unable to say _I don’t want any,_ because he does, he really does. Lucifer laughs, and pushes the burger back towards Ashton, but there’s something fond in his eyes, and it makes Ashton feel a little sick with something that he tries not to identify as guilt. 

“Eat,” he says, and it’s soft, it’s gentle, and it breaks Ashton’s heart into a million pieces. The Devil shouldn’t have it in him to care about anyone, least of all Ashton. 

Ashton can’t rid himself of that sneaking suspicion, though, staring at the burger in trepidation, and Lucifer sighs. 

“You really don’t trust me, huh?” he says, and there’s a note of bitterness in his voice. Ashton hates it, hates himself more for causing it, hates the guilt and confusion that washes over him as an immediate consequence of both of those thoughts. 

“You _are_ the Devil,” Ashton points out, and Lucifer huffs out a laugh. 

“I’d never fuck with my second-favourite angel,” he says solemnly. 

“I’m glad Michael’s safe, then,” Ashton shoots back before he can stop himself, and Lucifer grins, shaking his head. 

“Why do I love you?” he says, and there’s something so raw and wistful in his tone that Ashton wants to cry, wants to reach out, wants to tell him _I’m sorry, I’m wish I could make it better, I wish I could fix this, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I wish I’d never loved you, I wish I’d found a way to stop loving you._

Instead of saying anything, because nothing would be enough, and anything would be too much, he reaches forwards, picks up the burger, and brings it to his lips.

The radiant smile Lucifer gives him is all angel, no Devil. 


	5. “and slowly…i was forgotten.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke had known it was an inevitability from the moment he’d been cast down. 
> 
> He’d known there was no chance he’d see Ashton again. Ashton never came down, and Luke could no longer go up. And, after seeing the pained, twisted expression on Ashton’s face when Luke had been thrown out, both of them knowing what this meant - Luke loved Ashton harder, stronger, fiercer than Ashton ever loved him - Luke’s always thought that he never wanted to see Ashton again. That it’d hurt less the longer he stayed away, that he’d forget the way the light of Ashton’s halo would hit his eyes at just the right angle in the morning, lighting up the green-brown-gold. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt: “and slowly…i was forgotten.”

Luke had known it was an inevitability from the moment he’d been cast down. 

He’d known there was no chance he’d see Ashton again. Ashton never came down, and Luke could no longer go up. And, after seeing the pained, twisted expression on Ashton’s face when Luke had been thrown out, both of them knowing what this meant - Luke loved Ashton harder, stronger, fiercer than Ashton ever loved him - Luke’s always thought that he never _wanted_ to see Ashton again. That it’d hurt less the longer he stayed away, that he’d forget the way the light of Ashton’s halo would hit his eyes at just the right angle in the morning, lighting up the green-brown-gold. 

All it’s done, though, is make the loss more hollow, the love more bittersweet, the pain more of a throb than a sting, but not lessened any of it at all. And when he _had_ seen Ashton again, to his absolute shock, the gaping wound had just been torn open again, nothing but searing pain where his heart and lungs and stomach should be. 

“I still don’t get it,” Calum says, running his finger along the rim of his milkshake glass. “Why didn’t you look for him?” Luke gives him a look. 

“Are you serious?” he says, gesturing at himself. “Satan, remember? Not exactly welcome in Heaven.” Calum stares at him. 

“You can say He-” he winces, and Luke snorts. 

“Heaven? God? Christ? Yeah,” he says, taking a sip from his milkshake. “Guess He left a bit of angel in me.” Calum huffs out a laugh, shaking his head. 

“Nah, dude,” he says. “You’re all devil, trust me. No angel would eviscerate a woman in front of two of her coworkers.”

“She shouldn’t have laughed when I tripped over the pavement, then,” Luke mutters, and Calum rolls his eyes, but it’s kind of fond. 

“So, what, Ashton turns up, and suddenly you’re in love with him again?” he says, taking a sip from his milkshake. Luke snorts, but it’s humourless. 

“Yeah, I fucking wish,” he says gloomily. “Been in love with him all this time.” Calum chokes on his milkshake, and Luke tilts his head, sealing off Calum’s throat so he has to cough it all back up, just for the hell of it.

“What?” Calum gasps, spluttering, when Luke opens his airways again. 

“Yeah,” Luke says, watching Calum wheezing as he tries to get his breath back. 

“And you never looked for him?” Luke gives him a look, annoyed, and unties his shoelaces wordlessly. Calum doesn’t even notice, and Luke’s a little disappointed that he’s going to have to wait for the gratification from that one. 

“I just said that,” he says, a little irritably. Calum rolls his eyes, holding his hands up in defence. 

“Mate, I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact you dated an angel,” he says. Luke rolls his eyes. 

“When I told you I was the Devil you said ‘that’s pretty dope’, but me dating an _angel_ is what you’re struggling to come to terms with?” Calum shrugs casually, taking another sip of his milkshake and slurping obscenely. Luke scowls, and snaps his fingers, smashing the glass. Calum jumps back in shock as glass flies everywhere, bouncing off the shield Luke had cast in front of himself. 

“And you wonder why I didn’t have an issue believing you’re Satan?” Calum says crossly, brushing shards of glass off himself. Luke supposes he kind of has a point. 

“I just didn’t think I’d ever see him again,” Luke says, taking a sip from his milkshake. Calum makes grabby hands for it, but Luke’s kind of enjoying it, so he conjures Calum another one. 

“I mean, he recognised you,” Calum points out, taking a big gulp from his new milkshake. “That’s got to count for something. Even Michael didn’t recognise you, and he led the war against you.” 

“Yeah, well,” Luke says, because he’s been trying not to dwell on the fact that Ashton had recognised him. “He did love me, at some point.” 

“I think he might still,” Calum says, a little too seriously. 

“Nah,” Luke says, staring at his milkshake. “It’s been thousands of years.” He hesitates for a moment, and then adds: “I felt him, for a while, y’know. Looking for me, watching me down here. But he checked in less and less over time, and then…” he trails off.

“And then?” Calum probes, and Luke turns the sugar in his milkshake to salt for daring to push him on it. 

“And slowly…” Luke shrugs, stirring his milkshake so he won’t have to look at Calum with his burning eyes, because Calum’s such a low-level demon he won’t withstand the encounter and Luke’s sort of growing fond of him. “I was forgotten.” 

(But Luke still remembers the green-brown-gold.)


	6. noel gallagher as god

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m going to be away for a bit,” God says. Michael raises an eyebrow. 
> 
> “Where are you going?” he asks, intrigued. God grins. 
> 
> “Down,” He says, and Michael frowns. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt: after seeing all of your thirsting over the gallagher brothers,,,, what if you put them in somehow? i mean noel was touched by god with his lyrics anyway, so he might as well be god 
> 
> i've genuinely never had as much fun writing anything as i have writing this. granted that might have been because i was a little off my tits at the time but still i stand by it

Michael’s startled by a knock on his door. No one fucking knocks on his door. Ashton just barges in, already three sentences deep into the bollocking he’s been preparing for Michael, and no one else dares to come anywhere near his room. 

“Yeah?” Michael calls cautiously, and the door opens, and God walks in. 

“You got a minute?” He says, and Michael blinks at Him. 

“Not like I have much choice,” he says, setting his book aside. God grins, and sits down on a chintz armchair that’s just appeared in front of Him. “There’s a chair right there, you know,” Michael says, pointing to the chair in the corner. 

“Don’t like that one,” God says, kicking back in the armchair and raising an eyebrow. Michael rolls his eyes.

“Well?” he prompts, because God usually doesn’t just show up in Michael’s room. He’s much too lazy to transport Himself that far. 

“I’m going to be away for a bit,” God says. Michael raises an eyebrow. 

“Where are you going?” he asks, intrigued. God grins. 

“Down,” He says, and Michael frowns. 

“You can’t go down,” he says. 

“Says who?” God says. Michael opens his mouth, and then closes it again. He’s kind of got a point. 

“Jesus is going to be absolutely furious,” Michael says knowingly. The Son _loves_ being the only one of the Trinity that’s had direct experience of the earthly realm, even though the rest of the fucking Host have too. Honestly, Michael’s never met anyone more self-important in his entire existence. And, whoops, yeah, presence of God. Sorry. No criticising Jesus, even mentally. 

“You’ve really got to learn to control your thoughts,” God says, and there’s a serious undertone to His voice, but there’s a twinkle in His eyes, so Michael knows he’s not in trouble this time. 

“Shouldn’t have given me free will, then,” Michael shoots back, and God rolls His eyes. “What are you going down for?” God grins. 

“You’ll see,” He says. 

“What’s it got to do with me?” Michael says, a touch suspiciously. 

“Nothing,” God says. “Just wanted to let you know. You’re my favourite angel, after all.”

“You’re not supposed to have favourites,” Michael says, for, like, the ten millionth time, but he can’t hide the warm, holy feeling that spreads from the tips of his wings to his toes at God’s words. 

“I know,” God says, still grinning, “but Raphael’s been getting on my nerves lately, and you haven’t done anything worth a demotion for - what, three centuries now?” 

“Four,” Michael says. “Last time was when I accidentally started the Great Fire of London.” 

“Oh, yeah,” God says, like He’d forgotten, and not like He’d just wanted to hear Michael say the words _I, archangel Michael, righteous angel of the Lord, started the Great fucking Fire of London._ He grins at Michael’s thoughts, and Michael scowls. 

“Who’s in charge, then?” he asks, praying that He’ll say the Spirit. 

“Just for that I’m going to say Jesus,” God says, and Michael groans. 

“How long are you going to be gone?” he asks. He can manage maybe half a decade reporting to Jesus, maybe a decade at a push, but after that he’ll _definitely_ end up saying something that’ll make him fall. God grins again, and shrugs. 

“Not sure yet,” He says. “Think I might go back a bit as well. You’ll have to see.” 

“I’m sure I fucking will,” Michael mutters, and God laughs, the sound honey and gold in Michael’s veins, and then He’s gone. 

Fucking hell, Michael thinks, rubbing his eyes. Humans may not do much right, but the phrase _power trip_ is definitely amongst their achievements. 

——-

“I can’t believe this,” Calum says, for the eight hundredth time. “You can fucking time travel? And you never fucking told me?” 

“It’s not that exciting,” Michael says, flagging down the barman for another beer. “Like, what, I get to relive colonisation? Great?” Calum rolls his eyes as Michael holds up two fingers to the barman, who nods. 

“I don’t know why you bother ordering beer,” he says. “Just create some.” 

“I’m supporting local businesses,” Michael says primly. Calum just rolls his eyes again, and then shakes his head. 

“I can’t believe you can fucking time travel,” he says, again. “And it’s taken you two decades to take me on a time travel date?” 

“This is _exactly_ why I didn’t,” Michael says, waving a hand in the direction of the empty stage behind them. “I offer you all of history on the earthly Realm and you choose _England_ in the fucking _nineties?_ ” 

“Sex, drugs, and rock and roll?” Calum says with a grin as the barman slaps two beers down on the bar in front of them. “‘S right up my alley.” 

“Who said anything about sex?” Michael says, raising an eyebrow and taking a sip from his beer to hide his grin.

“Are you serious?” Calum says, half-incredulous, half-incensed. “You can’t take me on a date to see _Oasis_ and _not_ fuck me in the toilets.” Michael’s saved from answering by a huge burst of feedback that makes them both jump, sloshing beer all over themselves as they turn to look at the stage. 

“Good evening, Manchester,” a man clutching a tambourine is slurring into the microphone, hair curled with sweat. 

“That’s Liam Gallagher,” Calum says to Michael, lips brushing the shell of Michael’s ear to make himself heard over the noise as the band kick into their first overdrive-heavy song. It makes Michael shiver, and he feels Calum’s lips curve up in a grin. “Think the one on the bass is called Guigsy? The bald one’s Bonehead. And the other guitarist is Noel. He’s Liam’s brother. Dunno who the drummer is.” Michael nods, eyes following the bassist, guitarist, singer, and then- 

“Fucking hell,” he says, eyes on Noel. 

“What?” Calum says, shouting to be heard over the singer (Liam?)’s loud, gravelly voice. “They’re good, aren’t they?” 

“That’s God,” Michael says. 

“Who? Oh, Noel? Yeah, he’s fucking amazing, right?” Calum’s pretty much yelling now. “He writes all the songs. All of them. Fucking genius, honestly. Just you wait until I make you take me to Knebworth.” 

“No,” Michael says, pointing at Noel. “That’s literally God.” 

“What?” Calum says. 

“That,” Michael says slowly, still pointing at Noel. “That is God.” 

“Fuck off,” Calum says, rolling his eyes. “What d’you think of this one? It was their first single off the album, but I honestly think Live Forever would have been a better one to start with-” 

“Calum,” Michael interrupts, eyes still on Noel. “That’s God.” Calum sighs, all long-suffering, and starts to say something when Noel looks up, and catches Michael’s eye. A grin spreads across his face, and He winks, and Calum stops mid-word. 

“Fuck me,” Calum says, sounding strangled. “Are you telling me _Noel Gallagher’s_ -” 

“Yeah,” Michael says, when God - or Noel - turns back to his guitar, grin still fixed on his lips, and starts bouncing around the stage. 

“Oh, fucking hell,” Calum says faintly. “Now I’ve got to find a new favourite band.” Michael tears his gaze away from Noel to look at Calum in disbelief.

“Are you fucking serious?” he says. “You see _God_ playing _guitar_ in _Manchester_ in _nineteen-ninety-four_ and your first thought is ‘better find a new favourite band’?” Calum shrugs. 

“What else am I meant to say?” he says. Michael stares at him for a moment, and then shakes his head. 

“No wonder you’re a fucking demon,” he says, and he sees Noel grinning again, and knows He’s listening. 

“Can I meet Him?” Calum asks. Noel looks up, directly at them, and gives them a thumbs up, causing Liam to send him a look of annoyance when the guitar for the song cuts out. 

“Fucking hell,” Michael mutters, and downs the rest of his beer. “Guess so.” 

——-

Michael doesn’t even have to distract the security guy for them to get backstage, because Noel’s put them on some sort of list. They’re shown into a dingy dressing room that absolutely stinks of slightly-stale sweat and beer, Liam and Noel sprawled across a sofa with several questionable-looking stains on it, both sipping from cans of beer. 

“Who the fuck are you?” Liam says, raising his can of beer to his mouth.

“This is Michael,” Noel says, eyes glittering. 

“Don’t know him,” Liam says. 

“Lucky you,” Calum says, and Liam’s eyes flit to him, giving him a once over. 

“Who’re you, then?” he says, cocking his head. 

“Never you mind,” Calum says, and Liam grins. 

“This one can stay,” he says. 

“What the fuck?” Michael says, mostly to Noel, sort of to everything. Noel grins. 

“Nice to see you too,” He says, and then turns to Calum. “I’ve heard a lot about you.” He taps His head pointedly, which all of them know means _Michael has some filthy fucking thoughts about you_ , and Michael rolls his eyes, feeling his cheeks heat up. 

“Is that so?” Calum says, grinning and rocking back on his heels. 

“Fuck you,” Michael says. “Both of you.” Calum shoots Michael a sort of wild-eyed look, an _are you seriously going to insult God to His face?_ look, but Noel just laughs. 

“Think I’ll leave that to Calum,” He says. Calum blinks at Him, like he’s trying to find his footing, and then clears his throat. 

“Love what you’re doing,” he says nonchalantly, but Michael can see the slight tension in his posture, the way his wings are poised to fly out. “Think the next record’s going to be my favourite, though.” Liam, who’s been cutting up lines of coke on the table in front of them, looks up at Calum. 

“What the fuck’s wrong with this one?” he says.

“Nothing,” Calum says. 

“Fucking right,” Liam says, attention back on his coke. 

“But the next one’s going to be better.” 

“‘Course it is,” Liam says. “Best fucking band in the world, we are. And our Noel’s fucking godlike, isn’t he?” Noel grins, and Calum snorts. 

“Yeah,” he says. “You can fucking say that again.” Michael rolls his eyes. 

“I can’t fucking believe you,” Michael says to Noel. 

“Yeah, you can,” Noel says, stretching out on the sofa. 

“You left me up there with Him for _this?_ ” 

“Hey,” Noel says mildly, taking another sip from His beer. Michael’s pretty sure God’s not supposed to drink alcohol. “Watch your fucking tongue. And I made it for a reason.” Michael rolls his eyes. _Stop replying to my thoughts,_ he tells God, but Noel just grins and raises His thick eyebrows as He takes another swig from His beer. 

“Or what?” He says. 

“Fancy a line?” Liam says, like there isn’t a completely insane conversation happening right next to him, and Michael’s gaze flits to him to see him staring up at Calum from under thick, dark lashes. Oh, fucking hell. 

“Why not?” Calum says, with a shrug, and Michael catches his arm as he makes to walk over to Liam. 

“Not tonight,” Michael says, trying to communicate _I want you to be sober enough to fuck_ without having to say the words. Noel snorts, disguises it badly as a cough, and downs the rest of His beer. 

“You’re no fucking fun,” Calum grumbles, clearly not understanding Michael’s subliminal message. He strains to pull away from Michael’s archangel grip, but then glances at Noel briefly and seems to remember whose presence he’s currently in, and stops struggling. Not that God’s ever cared much about drugs. If Michael remembers correctly, Luke had been the weed dealer for half of the Host as soon as He’d created it. 

“I’ve got to say, Calum, you’re much more fucking fun than Michael,” Noel says. 

“Well, that’s not exactly fucking hard, is it?” Calum says, and Michael rolls his eyes. 

“Fuck you,” he says, and points at Noel. “You, especially.” 

“I can’t believe you fucking let him do that,” Calum says to Noel. “I once told Luke his arse looked flat in some leather trousers and he strung me up by my wings for six months.” Noel snorts. 

“How is Luke?” He says, sounding intrigued. Calum shrugs. 

“Same old,” he says. 

“Still genocidal?” 

“Nah, he’s moved past that,” Calum says. “Realised finding ways to piss Michael off is a much more enjoyable way to spend eternity.” 

“Understandable,” Noel says, eyeing one of the lines Liam hasn’t snorted yet with interest. “You gonna fucking leave any of that for me, our kid?” Liam blinks at Him. 

“You fucking what?” he says, sounding incensed. “Who fucking bought it?”

“Who fucking wrote the songs that made you the fucking money to buy it?” Noel counters, and as Liam makes a noise of outrage, Calum rounds on Michael, looking somewhere between awed and bewildered. 

And, Michael realises with a start as Noel and Liam start to bicker loudly in the background, this is the first time Calum’s met God. In retrospect, a fucking dingy dressing room that smells of sweat and beer and is filled to the brim with alcohol and drugs was probably not the best way to introduce his Father and his boyfriend, but then again, _God_ was the one that had known Michael would be here. _Michael’s_ not the omniscient one. 

He wonders what Calum’s going to say. Meeting God is, after all, a pretty awe-inspiring experience. Maybe he’s thinking about the nature of good and evil, of God’s relationship with Luke, of Michael’s relationship with God, of Michael’s relationship with Calum. Maybe he’s thinking about creation, how God created the Realms that Calum dances in, how God created Calum himself. Maybe he’s thinking about the omnipotence, the omniscience, trying to comprehend what that encompasses and what it means. Maybe, Michael thinks, he’s even got questions that he wants to ask, philosophical ponderings that he’s mulled over for centuries and has finally got the opportunity to receive answers to. 

Calum opens his mouth, and Michael looks at him expectantly. 

“God does coke?” is all Calum says, and Michael rolls his eyes. 

Fucking typical. 


End file.
